Brat.

Dear woman at Toys R Us,

Now that I am in a better mood I can clearly see that I was a total you-know-what today.

I should know by now to not let David out of my sight.

And when you returned him to me and then later approached me with raised eyebrows

and told me that "he was heading outside!,"

I should have thanked you profusely for keeping my little guy safe

instead of snidely remarking,

"So I need to watch him better? Is that what you're trying to say?"

I'm sorry I took my frustration out on you.

No doubt I am a total brat sometimes.

(Just ask my husband for verification on this.)

Let's face it- this whole mothering thing is a bit over my head sometimes.

And it will definitely take the entire village to raise my David.

He's bound and determined to not make it to his next birthday.

My little Houdini.

Anyways, you're great.

Thanks for helping me today.

Let's have lunch in the next life.

Hugs,

Erin

I'm a sucker.

It was Sunday.

We were at church.

Nora developed pink eye mid Sacrament Meeting.

(Yes, truly mid-meeting.)

Nate had to take her home.

I could read the look of injustice on Will's face...

"Dad and Nora get to go home because of one irritated eye?!"

Fast forward one hour.

Will's cute teacher comes to get me.

She says, "Will has an itchy bum.

I tried to wipe it for him but he said it didn't help.

He says he 'can't concentrate' and he can't seem to hold still."

Itchy bum?

Good grief- what am I supposed to do about that?

"Will, I'm taking you home to your dad."

And then a grin the size of Texas spread over his face.

That's when I knew I had been played.

Totally schooled.

C'mon Erin. Itchy bum? Does that sound like a real symptom of anything?

But it was ward conference and I had stake leaders to attend to.

So I walked Will across the street, (because we live across the street), to the pediatrician.

I told Nate that we needed something for "itchy bum" stat.

And he looked at me with his oh really? expression.

I knew what he was thinking...

C'mon Erin. Itchy bum? Does that sound like a real symptom of anything?

Totally outsmarted by my 4 year old.

Are they really supposed to be this cunning?

I guess it's time to step up my game.

Bring it.

Nora. Lover of fine literature.

"Fairy yellow, fairy red,

Fixing wings with fairy thread.

Fairy orange, fairy blue,

Fastening up their fairy shoes.

Fairy pink, fairy white,

Carrying lanterns shining bright.

Rainbow fairies one and all,

Ready for the fairy ball!"

Nora read this book through 12 straight times this morning.

(Okay, not really "read" since she has it memorized.)

She then exuberantly declared, "I love this book!"

Will: "Why?"

Nora: "Because it is so, SO amazing."

Nora knows a good rhyme when she sees one.

Anyone need any book suggestions?

Just ask Nora.

And David thinks my hair smells like cranberries. Just in case you were wondering.